Vacations and Hookers
by pisces317
Summary: This is a one-shot alternate ending scene to "Moving On". Wilson whump and slight H/W.


**Title: **Vacations and Hookers**  
>Author: <strong>Megan (pisces317)**  
>Rating: <strong>PG**  
>Summary: <strong>Alternate ending scene to Moving On**  
>Spoilers: <strong>Moving On but not really**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>Not mine, just borrowing.

**Author's Note: **I apologize if it's crap. The story popped quickly into my head and I kept getting interrupted while writing it.

* * *

><p>Wilson walks into his condo, injured arm carefully balanced in the sling. It had only been a bad sprain thankfully and even though they'd given him some pain medication in the ER it hadn't helped to dull the pain which was most plaguing him.<p>

House had driven his car into Cuddy's house, not caring if he ran Wilson over. Then he just got out, handed Cuddy the hairbrush, walked out the front door and smiled at him. He'd said that Wilson was right then walked off. Not a glance over his shoulder to see if Wilson was okay, not a care in the world. In one move House had discarded everything in his life then disappeared.

Pain stabbed his chest and a solitary tear trickled down his cheek. A part of him didn't understand how House could have just brushed him off like that. How the diagnostician could have just left, abandoning 20years of friendship and the person who had spent them with him.

Numbly, Wilson limped over to his couch and collapsed into it. His arm and ankle screamed their dislike at being moved so quickly but he didn't care, his mind was still trying to solve the riddle that was Gregory House.

The pounding in his head that had begun in the ambulance and hadn't wavered through all the questions and inquiries and suspicions ratcheted up a couple more notches, making Wilson wonder briefly if he would be sick from the pain. Slowly his stomach settled back into it's proper place but the pain in his head didn't dull.

He brought his uninjured hand to his head to massage the throbbing away and closed his eyes to try to relax the tension away from his shoulders.

"You ready?" a shockingly familiar voice asked almost quietly.

Wilson opened his eyes hesitantly, almost afraid that he was dreaming. House stood before him with a suitcase that looked amazingly like Wilson's, sitting on the floor to his left. "House?" He asked hoarsely.

House nodded, blue eyes surveying the damage done to Wilson's body, "You were expecting Thirteen?"

"No," Wilson answered, giving a tired smirk, "I just didn't expect you to break into my house and pack my things."

House offered a smirk of "Do you know me at all?" but said nothing. He limped over to the empty spot on Wilson's couch and lowered himself none-too-gently down.

Wilson groaned when the movement, stiff though the couch may be, jostled his aching body. While he hadn't been badly injured jumping out of the way, his body didn't appreciated the hard landing on the ground and was letting him know.

"You okay?" House asked lightly though he knew Wilson would hear the concern behind the question. Despite what the oncologist probably thought, he had noticed that Wilson had been injured and he had been concerned but he wasn't about to stick around to get arrested either.

"Yeah," Wilson answered succinctly. He allowed himself to lower his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes again.

"Broken arm? Twisted ankle?" House asked summarizing as best as he could.

"Sprained wrist and ankle." Wilson grumbled quietly.

House took the hint and began talking again, this time much more softly. "So, you ready for your vacation? I figured Bora Bora."

"House I can't go on vacation with you. I have patients and a job." Wilson lectured, looking at his friend with tired, sad brown eyes.

Quickly House looked away from his best friend. The sheer pain behind the chocolate irises threatened to floor him and he needed to keep the stoicism at a normal level. "Sure you can. It's not like Cuddy will want you around anyways and you have a hundred hours of vacation stacked up." Softly he poked Wilson in the side with his elbow, careful to avoid the injured arm. "Come on, you know you want to." He chided childishly.

Wilson gave a sardonic laugh, "Why would I want to go on vacation with someone who doesn't give a damn about me? Or anyone else for that matter."

House forced himself to focus on Wilson's face, hoping he hid just how much the words had hurt. "If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here."

"Oh please," Wilson scoffed, giving a slight wince when his volume jostled his head, "you're here to make me pay for your vacation, nothing more."

"I could have done that without packing you a suitcase." House countered, pointing at the item on the floor.

"Then why? Because I'm out of reasons." Resigning himself to the fact that House wasn't about to go away soon, Wilson gingerly eased himself into an easier position to stare at his friend.

"I want you there." House answered in a soft whisper.

"Why?" Wilson asked refusing to allow himself to be dumbfounded. He knew that admitting that House wanted him around had been hard for the older man but he wasn't about to let him off easily.

"Without you, I have no one." House answered after a small pause.

Wilson let out a sigh, "Well as much as I appreciate that. I'm not going to run away from the mess you made. Someone has to clean it up and we both know that it won't be you."

"I've already sent Cuddy a check for the damages with plenty left over for whatever she wants. If she wants to continue to press charges after that then there's nothing to stick around for." House answered with a shrug.

"What-where'd you get the money?" Wilson asked, shaking his head minutely in confusion.

"I've been living off you for years while living minimally. I do know how to save money." House answered with a "Duh" tone.

Before Wilson could ask any more questions, his phone rang out, the **Imperial March **sounding ominously. Awkwardly, Wilson pulled the shrilling phone out of his pocket and answered it with, "Hello."

"Wilson," Cuddy's tired voice responded over the phone.

A part of him almost snapped that who else did she expect but he kept his tone polite, "Hey Cuddy. What's up?"

"How are you doing?" Cuddy asked, concern filling her voice and no doubt melting her slate eyes.

"I'll be fine. Just need to take it easy for a few days." Wilson answered using his oncologist tone.

"That's good. Well if you need time off, let me know." She answered, her tone indicating that she wanted him to do it more than she would say. "Anyways, I wanted to let you know that I received a check via hooker from House." Wilson rolled his eyes at House's proud smile. "I'm still keeping the restraining order against him, and on the hospital, but I'm dropping the charges. The check he sent me was for more than enough to repair the damage done, to the house at least."

Wilson wanted to say something reassuring but words failed him. "I'm sure House will appreciate that, wherever he is."

"I know he's there Wilson," Cuddy practically growled into the phone, "the hooker told me what his plans were."

Once again Wilson rolled his eyes. A groan escaped his mouth as the throbbing in his head escaped ten fold.

"Are you okay?" Cuddy asked immediately.

"Yeah, just a migraine." Wilson answered feebly while he lay his head back down.

"Then, I'll let you go. I just wanted to assure you both that no charges will be pressed." She responded almost coldly.

"Thanks Cuddy, I appreciate it. Also, I would like to take three weeks' vacation time." He announced, earning an approving look from his friend.

"Okay. I'll let Dr. Brown know and rearrange your schedule when I arrive tomorrow." She didn't wait for an answer before she hung up, the click reverberating through his aching head.

"Great, let's go!" House said as loudly as he dared. When Wilson made no move to get up, House nudged him softly, "Come on. Our flight leaves in three hours."

"Of course you'd pick an overnight flight," Wilson groaned placing a hand over his face exasperatedly.

"I want to get you to myself as quickly as possible." House answered with a smirk. He held out a hand for Wilson to take and waited patiently.

Hesitantly Wilson placed his hand in House's.

With a gentleness not often attributed to the older man, House eased his friend off the couch making sure to note what seemed to bother him most. Despite the migraine, the only other injuries that seemed to register in the oncologist's mind where the aforementioned ankle and wrist injuries.

Guilt stabbed his heart at the sight of Wilson in pain but he brushed it aside and grabbed the suitcase. "If you hurry, I might give you a massage," House offered slyly.

Deciding it best not to ask what exactly House planned on massaging, Wilson offered, "It better be a good one."

House waited until Wilson exited the condo before he closed the locked door behind them. "Oh, you'll like it."


End file.
